Smoke and Flame
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: B:tVS, A:tS, SG1. A short series of ficlets in which the Powers That Be and their allies prepare for the advent of the Ori. SPOILERS for SG1 episode 9.3 Origin.
1. Where There's Smoke

**Title**: Where There's Smoke

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: K+

**Category**: B:tVS/SG-1

**Summary**: The Powers That Be pass along a warning. 100 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen". Stargate SG-1 "Origin" (9.3)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: I can't get this week's episode of SG-1 out of my head, so, fic. (This is not connected to my "Ugly Black Dress" drabble series).

* * *

_"I'm gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back."  
--Buffy, "Restless" (4.22)_

* * *

Buffy woke from her dream-- her vision-- drenched with sweat and panting heavily. Someone, somewhere had just died in screaming agony, and the PTBs had made sure she'd seen it. Two someones: a bearded, blue-eyed man and a dark-haired woman, who'd shifted into a thinner man and a blonde before disappearing behind a wall of fire.

_"Unbelievers..."_

The word hissed in her subconscious, overlaying the crackling sound of hungry flames. It sent shivers up her spine, bringing up half-forgotten classroom memories of Inquisition overlaid with the tingle of her Slayer senses.

She was getting a very bad feeling about this.

(fin)


	2. Harbinger

**Title**: Harbinger

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: K+

**Category**: A:tS/SG-1

**Summary**: 400 words. Illyria is not pleased to find the ownership of this world challenged.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: A:tS post-"Not Fade Away". Stargate SG-1 "Origin" (9.3)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: I still can't get this week's episode of SG-1 out of my head, so, more fic. This is a companion to the drabble "Where There's Smoke".

* * *

_"You learn to destroy everything that's not utterly yours. All that matters is victory. That's how your reign persists."  
--Illyria, A:tS "Time Bomb" (5.19)_

* * *

A not-quite-sound sent shivering the veils between the worlds, vaguely reminiscent of the crackle of fire or the roar of a distant battle. Illyria, her powers stabilized and strengthened since the great battle against the Wolf, Ram, and Hart, heard it and stilled in the stalking of her prey to listen.

Millenia ago, when the Powers That Do Naught had been members of a corporeal race called the Alterrans, there had been another faction-- or so her kind's legends of origin claimed. Discontent with the Alterrans' practice of allowing each soul to develop as it would, they had rent open dimensional Wells upon the Alterrans' new homeworld and departed, smug in the assumption that they had inflicted a fatal blow.

History, such as existed after the distortion of passing eons, recorded only a great plague. In the book of her Guide, the one within whose pages all texts could be revealed, Illyria had read of glowing spirits and a city lifted from the Earth's surface by unfathomable magic; by the time of her rule, all signs of their presence or that of their opponents had long since gone to dust.

All save one. To those with the sensitivity to feel it, the ambient energy field wrapped around this miserable planet had a flavor, a hum, a subtle coloration that gained in strength near the weaknesses the humans referred to as Hellmouths. A signature left behind by those who had pierced the veils, one that had existed unchanged throughout all living memory, including her own. Something had induced its creators to take notice of this place once more; the resonance was unmistakable.

Illyria frowned. This was not the world of her reign, but it was yet the world in which she lived, and the world upon which her Guide had lived; she was not ready to surrender it to the ownership of Others, even those whose actions had led to her own birth.

She looked up, and found that same knowledge in the fierce blue eyes of her pet half-breed, standing silent at her side. He had changed much since the battle that had taken the lives of their remaining companions; the Seer's visions had become his, the cursed one's Championship his own. It did not surprise her that he should also be aware of what had occurred.

This day's prey no longer mattered. There was larger game to be sought.

(fin)


	3. Something Worse

**Title**: Something Worse

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS/SG-1

**Summary**: 750 words. Faith wakes up screaming.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen". Stargate SG-1 "Origin" (9.3)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: Third in the "Smoke and Flame" series; seventh ficlet for the August Fic-A-Day challenge. Rated for Faith's language.

* * *

_"Oh yeah. That's it! Now that's a cleansing fire. Hallelujah!"  
--Caleb, "Dirty Girls" (7.18)_

* * *

The second vision was much different from the first. In place of the medieval village square and Inquisitorial pyre, she seemed to be overlooking a vast plain the blue-green color of glacier ice. It stretched as far as the eye could see under a shroud of mist and fog, and in the center of that chilly expanse a rocky outcropping rose, crowned with a domed, golden city caressed by errant rays of light. It was at once beautiful and forbidding, and unlike any place on Earth that Faith had ever seen or heard of.

A flash of light speared up from the ground a short distance from the city, and a series of small wavelets lapped away from it in an expanding circle. Whatever the ground was made of, it was covered in an inch of clear water-- it had to be hell on footwear, but the three people left behind when the glare faded didn't seem to notice. She recognized two of them from before, but the third was a mystery, some kind of albino humanoid with cloudy eyes and a walking staff topped with a blue orb.

"_The power and greatness of the Ori cannot be denied_," a strong, resonant voice spoke over the image as the three travelers strode toward the city. "_Those who reject the path to enlightenment **must** be destroyed_."

The strange plain was gone in an instant, replaced once more by the village pyre and the panicked faces of its victims. Then the flames flared up into a massive wall, blocking out everything else.

"_Great holy armies shall be gathered and trained to fight all who embrace evil_." The voice that spoke over the crackle of the fire was the same as before, slightly raspy but paced like a practiced orator used to rousing passion in the hearts of a crowd. "_In the name of the gods, ships shall be built to carry our warriors out amongst the stars, and we will spread Origin to **all** the unbelievers_."

The vision pulled back, altering Faith's point of view just enough for her to see the speaker. He was tall, with the frosted hair and eyes of the albino she'd seen before, and wore a strange etched chest-piece over his robes that arrowed upward into thin curved strips behind his ears. It looked like nothing so much as a crazy priest's outfit, an association that filled her with foreboding. The last thing the Slayers needed was a new version of Caleb coming to town-- one with even more power and hatred behind him.

"_The power of the Ori will be felt far and wide, and the wicked will be vanquished!_"

"The fuck we will!" Faith screamed, or tried to scream, and woke to find herself thrashing in her own bed back in the Slayer complex. Her heart was racing, she was covered in sweat, and she _knew_, in the same way that she always knew when another Slayer was near her, that she wasn't the only one who'd Seen that night.

She waited a few minutes, long enough to catch her breath and run a brush through her damp, tangled hair, then threw a robe on over her birthday suit and padded out into the office section of her suite. Giles had insisted that all the main Council members have a video-phone with conference capabilities, including she and Robin, and Faith was about to put it to good use.

The phone rang only once on the other end. Faith winced as B answered; it was several hours later in the day there, but the older Slayer looked just as wrung out as she felt.

"You Saw it too?" she asked, already certain of the answer.

"Holy armies, star warriors, smash the wicked," Buffy nodded, her mouth creased in a grim frown. "And still no idea where exactly these Ori are coming from, or what they are, or how to fight them. I called Giles after the last vision, but he couldn't find any references-- I hope he recognizes the city or something from this one, 'cause I'm starting to get the feeling this is kind of urgent."

Faith clenched her fists. "He'd better. 'Cause no way is this going to happen, not after the shit we went through in Sunnydale. We cut down the First Evil, B! How can there be anything worse than that?"

"I don't know, Faith," Buffy said, her voice quiet and her eyes hollow with old pain.

"But there's always something worse."

(fin)


	4. A New Host

**Title**: A New Host

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS/SG-1

**Summary**: Ethan Rayne had long been aware that something strange was going on in the state of Colorado. 1200 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen". Stargate SG-1 "Origin" (9.3)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: Fourth in the "Smoke and Flame" series; eighteenth ficlet for the August Fic-A-Day challenge.

* * *

_"This new outfit, it's blundering into new places it doesn't belong. It's throwing the worlds out of balance. And that's way beyond chaos, mate. We're headed quite literally for one hell of a fight."  
--Ethan Rayne, "A New Man" (4.12)_

* * *

Ethan Rayne had long been aware that something strange was going on in the state of Colorado. Specifically, the Colorado Springs area. It had begun with a flare of unnatural energy that had caught his attention from halfway round the world, repeating itself more than once over a period of a few days, then disappearing entirely before he had quite got close enough to track it. It had felt like a spike in the Earth's natural magical field, though he knew it wasn't quite that, exactly; further investigation had revealed that only Ethan himself and a handful of other Janus devotees had noticed anything unusual.

Ethan had written the incident off as a powerful chaos spell let loose by an indiscriminate sorcerer, something he himself had been guilty of on occasion. He gave the event no further thought until the strange energy surge recurred a year later, and this time did not fade away after a few days' repetition. In the years since, scarcely a day had passed without his fingertips tingling at least once in response to that release of rogue magic.

Ripper's relocation to the Hellmouth about the same time the energy spikes had resumed had been a fortuitous coincidence from Ethan's point of view. He had done a great deal of investigating on his wandering route to California, hoping to discover-- and claim for himself-- whatever the source of the surges might be, but had never quite managed to find the answers. Whatever was going on under Cheyenne Mountain had heavy protection, both supernatural and not. Unless he wanted to throw in with a powerful magical group like Ripper's friendly Coven, or partner with a dubious military group like the American NID, he had little chance of infiltrating on his own. Neither choice was an option from his point of view. Not without Janus providing serious assistance, and the two-faced deity had proved impenetrably silent on the subject.

As irony would have it, of course, the little crowd of government commandos that Ripper turned him over to after the Fyarl incident were none other than an offshoot of the same NID he had been so carefully avoiding. They had access to metals that had a dampening effect on his magic and many other strange devices and substances that must have come from the Colorado complex itself. Ethan had begun to suspect, despite lack of evidence, that the thing he had been searching for was in fact a stable, reusable portal of some kind. Janus had been, after all, the Roman god of gates and doorways long before acquiring his status as patron deity of chaos.

Ethan had been at the Arizona complex for five years, behaving like a model prisoner in public and working what small magics he could get away with while in unshielded areas like the exercise yard, when his situation altered again. He had long since ceased to take note of the individual fluctuations in the Earth's energy caused by the opening and closing of the suspected fixed portal, especially as muted as the effect was behind the technology that kept his own magic mostly out of reach, but when the usual tingle along his nerves mutated into a burning fire that nearly blinded him with pain, he knew that something significant had just changed. As distracted as he was by the effects, the actual appearance of the god of chaos in his cell went almost unnoticed.

Almost.

As soon as his muscles unclenched enough for him to move, Ethan went down on one knee, adopting a subservient pose. Janus generally preferred initiative and imagination in his acolytes, traits that generally went hand in hand with an independent nature and therefore did not generally require obeisance; all the same, in a situation like this Ethan thought standing up to him might be going a bit far. He still half-suspected that his exile to this place had been permitted because he'd been probing into a phenomenon that Janus would rather remain a secret.

The deity was dressed-- as far as an incorporeal being could be 'dressed'-- in a generic sort of classical Roman attire that Ethan suspected was more of an image used for its associations than because it was a genuine representation of Janus' origins. The doubled face above the toga had more features in common with the ancient Egyptians than Romulus' people, and the eyes glittered momentarily with an eerie orange light.

"Ethan Rayne," the figure said, in a deep, two-toned voice.

Ethan bowed from the waist and spoke his customary ritual phrase. "Chaos. I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate, son."

"Indeed." The being chuckled. "Would you be willing to perform one final, simple service for me, in return for the opportunity to leave this place?"

Final? Ethan didn't like the phrasing of that, but it was his chosen deity speaking, and anything would be better than staying in this place. "I am yours to command," he said.

"Be certain," Janus cautioned him. "You must be a willing participant in the act, or the consequences will be a great deal more unpleasant than necessary for us both."

That statement aroused both Ethan's curiosity and his native impertinence. "That depends on what sort of act you're talking about," he said, in a considering tone of voice.

Janus narrowed his eyes at him, clearly irritated by Ethan's attitude, but answered anyway. "I require a temporary host," he said shortly. "One who will not fight me. Anubis did not care whether the occasional human puppet disintegrated under his control, but you have been useful to me, and I do not wish you fatally harmed. Additionally, unless I limit my behavior in extra-planetary matters to that more typical of an ordinary Goa'uld-- the class of being to which I belonged before I discovered a means to further evolve-- the Others will likely interfere with what I am about to do. And finally, there are those we must meet who will question whether my host is willing, and be far more likely to trust me if it is the truth."

Ethan rose to a standing position involuntarily and took a step backward, astonished by the revelations. Not so much by the strangeness or the unexplained references in Janus' answer, but more because the deity had bothered to explain. Or perhaps it wasn't so astonishing; it was knowledge Ethan would need if he agreed, and which Janus could wipe from his mind again quite easily if he didn't.

He considered the matter again, examining it from several angles, then reluctantly came to the same conclusion he'd arrived at the first time. Regardless of his personal desire to be far from the front lines of any dangerous action not involving Ripper, there was really only one answer he could give and hope for any future at all. Besides, he thrived on chaos; this could possibly turn out to be fun.

Ethan took a deep breath and nodded. "I am willing."

"Good," Janus exclaimed, and stuck his incorporeal hands through Ethan's throat.

A burning sensation built again in Ethan's nerves, this time concentrated at the base of his skull, and swept his consciousness away in a wave of disorienting pain.

(fin)


	5. An Unexpected Guest

Title: An Unexpected Guest 

Author: Jedi Buttercup

Rating: T

Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

Summary: B:tVS, SG-1. Daniel would never have guessed the man to be a Goa'uld host; he did not look anything like the type of human the parasitic aliens typically looked for in their human vessels. 1200 words.

Spoilers: B:tVS post-"Chosen". Stargate SG-1 post-"Origin" (9.3)

Notes: Fifth in the "Smoke and Flame" series. Closely tied to "A New Host".

* * *

"_What is a god, but a being that is worshiped by those beneath?_"  
--The Doci, "Origin" (SG-1, 9.3)

* * *

"What's going on?" Daniel Jackson asked, puzzled, as he was ushered hurriedly into one of the SGC's conference rooms by an anonymous airman.

Vala, the problem of the Ori, and the text that had been recovered from the Avalon expedition had been occupying nearly all of his time since awakening from his out-of-body experience on the Alterrans' original homeworld. He'd been able to vent some of his concerns regarding that event to Jack when his old friend and team leader had stopped by for a visit, but otherwise, there was no one here he could truly confide in since Sam and Teal'c had left the SGC for other opportunities. He'd distracted himself from the loneliness, disappointment, and frustration that assailed him by immersing himself fully in his work, and General Landry had seemed inclined to let him. So what had changed?

"A Goa'uld we didn't know about turned up at Area 51 this morning," the General replied grimly, waving Daniel to a seat. "It turns out they'd been holding his host for other reasons for several years, completely unaware that the man was harboring a... guest."

"That's... unusual behavior for a Goa'uld," Daniel replied, puzzled. The last Goa'uld they'd known of who had been trapped, awake, on Earth during the last few thousand years was Set, or Seth, who had exemplified his species' typical power-hungry behavior repeatedly over the years, forming cults over which he exercised the power and life and death. Daniel couldn't imagine a Goa'uld choosing to merely sit back and let his host have control any significant length of time, especially in a confined setting like an NID prison.

"And that's the least of it," Colonel Mitchell spoke up. He was seated across the table from Daniel, holding a remote control in his hand, gazing at a monitor displaying a scene in an interrogation room. "Watch this," he continued, and rolled the footage backward.

"Yes, I knew Egeria," the lean, brown-hared figure shown on the screen said, as Mitchell set the footage to play forward again. If not for the echoing overtones in his voice, Daniel would never have guessed the man to be a Goa'uld host; he did not look anything like the type of human the parasitic aliens typically looked for in their human vessels. Almost every Goa'uld host Daniel had ever seen was physically imposing, unusually beautiful, or stood out from the general populace in some other way.

"I did not agree with many of her political standings," the Goa'uld continued on screen, "but neither did I believe, as many of my brethren did, that humans were fit only to serve as our cattle. When she came to your planet before the time of the Roman Empire to stop other Goa'uld from continuing to take the Tau'ri as slaves, I accompanied her, as did some few others. I took the name Janus, and immersed myself in your culture. When Egeria left again, taking her children with her to form the backbone of the movement you know as the Tok'ra, I stayed behind."

"If you stayed behind," the interrogator asked suspiciously, "then how do you know we've met them?"

The Goa'uld smiled, a sharklike expression full of smug mischief that raised Daniel's hackles. "You can't imagine that Anubis was the only Goa'uld to ever achieve enlightenment?" he asked. "I take a host because it suits my purposes, and his, to do so; I do not require one."

"Enlightenment?" Daniel muttered to himself, wondering at that use of the word, which he had so recently learned was preferred by the Ori for the energy state they had evolved to, rather than the typical Alterran-Ancient reference to 'ascension'.

On screen, the interrogation continued. "If that's the case, then let us speak to your host."

"He is still exhausted from the events of the day," Janus said, still smiling disquietingly at the NID officer, "but I can see that you will give my statements little credence until I do so. Very well."

He lowered his head-- much as a Tok'ra would have done-- then raised it again, and some of the amusement and arrogance left his features. But only some. "Well," he said. "This has certainly been an interesting experience so far. I don't suppose you're ready to stop wasting our time and send us on to Cheyenne Mountain?"

"And why would we do that?" the interrogator asked. "You're a _Goa'uld_. What could you possibly say to convince us to let you anywhere near the Stargate?"

"I'm _carrying_ a Goa'uld, dear boy, I'm not one myself," the host said. "Ethan Rayne, devoted servant of Chaos, at your service. And I suspect your superiors will be interested to know what Janus knows about the Ori, for starters."

"Why don't you tell us? We'll be sure to pass the information along."

"No, I rather think we'll wait," Ethan continued, and the sharklike smile returned-- a manifestation of the host, then, and not the Goa'uld itself. That, if nothing else, convinced Daniel that what Janus had said was true: he _had_ chosen a willing host. A very interesting development, especially if he truly was partially ascended.

Colonel Mitchell paused the video again, and he and the general both turned toward Daniel.

"Well?" Landry asked. "What do you think, Doctor Jackson?"

Daniel frowned, cupping his hands around the mug of coffee that one of the airmen had brought him, and delved into his knowledge of Roman mythology "When Mr. Rayne said he was a devoted servant of Chaos, he was speaking literally; Janus is known as a god of chaos in some recent references. More traditionally, however, Janus was known for being a god of doors, of gates, of endings and beginnings, and of other transitions; he was also one of the culture heroes of the Romans, supposedly responsible for intervening when the Sabines attacked Rome to retrieve their kidnapped daughters. He is usually depicted in artwork as having two faces, one of them bearded and the other sometimes clean-shaven, with a key in his right hand."

"And that applies to this situation, in what way?" the general prompted, eyebrows raised.

Daniel took a deep breath. "According to some versions of his mythology, Janus was originally a human king, and responsible for a Golden Age among his people, before he was deified as the protector of Rome. It would be a stretch to suggest that he might be benevolent, but I think it possible that he might actually be willing to cooperate with us, as he says. And frankly, any information that he might be willing to give us about the Ori would be invaluable."

"You think he'd tell us the truth?" Mitchell asked, doubtfully.

"I doubt he wants the Ori to take over this galaxy any more than we do," Daniel replied, reasonably. "And if he's partially ascended, as he claims, he may know a great deal about their capabilities and weaknesses."

Landry sighed and nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll recommend he be brought here."

Daniel sighed, remembering the intensity and determined fervor of the Ori's spokesman, the Doci, and hoped he wouldn't be proven wrong. The Tau'ri could use all the help they could get in this new struggle.

--


End file.
